


Impending

by shimmersing



Series: Illuminated [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, First Person, In Which Aitahea Thinks Too Much, Insomnia, Just A little Meander, Light Angst, Lots of Name Dropping, One Shot, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24316591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimmersing/pseuds/shimmersing
Summary: Aitahea is wakeful as the Luminous and her crew travel to the captured Republic ship Progress.
Series: Illuminated [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/966930
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	Impending

**Author's Note:**

> Characters: Aitahea Daviin, Jedi Consular  
> Setting: The consular ship _Luminous_ ; after _Best Intentions_  
>  Spoilers: End of Consular Chapter 1

My legs quiver a little as I descend the last few stairs to the cargo bay, peeking through to the engine room where Qyzen often takes advantage of the sublight engine’s droning to assist his meditations. I prefer silence or subtle music; no ship has never been musical to me. The _Luminous_ is home and work and part of my life, but never the same as a living being. Not like Tember insists her _No Promises_ is, though my sister would deny the influence of the Force in the same breath that she would insist her ship had a ‘heart.’ That we keep in touch at all being a Jedi and a smuggler, how might that unfold without a guiding hand?

My steps slow even further. Our work has been taxing, to say the least. I’m hungry for rest, real refreshing sleep, but it eludes me in an unusually subtle manner. I do all our prescribed Jedi practices. The breathing. The focus. The mindfulness. Peace. Knowledge. Serenity. Harmony. But my memory falters and skips, my own words dripping like the lines of the Sith Code, which I have read many, many times yet cannot commit to memory. The words refuse to stay mine, and again I fear that I’ve forgotten something valuable.

I reach the crafting console. Tharan and Holiday retired hours ago, even though they keep Nar Shaddaa time. I consider whether they would consider this early or late. On Tython, it would be before dawn at the Jedi Temple, just a blush of color at the horizon being shamed by the glitter of the wild palimpsest of light that glowed from the Deep Core. On Alderaan, dawn was a glittering burst of sunlight most of the year, though during summer the humidity set the evening sky ablaze, and rainbow fractals would slowly fade into starlight.

I sort idly through the materials we’ve collected, organizing them into appropriate bins, jars, boxes, or drawers. It keeps me busy for only a few moments as there’s so little to do. My companions are conscientious and keep the ship tidy, with little additional fussing from See-Too.

My fingers drift to the keypad, out of habit opening my inbox to check for messages. I sigh. I’ve meant to stop doing this during sleeping hours. If there’s an emergency it’ll come through See-Too, and he’ll see that I’m woken and responding. Most of the time when that’s about to happen I’m already awake, or at least aware, cognizant of some impending shift already echoing through the Force. I am always awake, at some level.

I close the application without looking at the display, avoiding the characters that could spell out disaster… or perhaps rest? _Impending_ , cries the Force within me, and I rush to embrace it, willing it to wait, to gentle, to give me just a little more time. Only a little.

I am not ready. But there is no more time.

I am afraid, so I use it to sharpen my focus, bring my surroundings into stark relief. And then I release it. This is key. Yet. Always yet. Let go.

When the main holo chimes through the Luminous, I blink back to the present, frowning as I realize the auxiliary galactic map has opened, resolving on an unfamiliar sector. Two ships hang in the black. Ours, _Luminous_ , and…

 _Progress_. The ship Vivicar stole. Filled with our allies, Republic troopers he’d enslaved to his poisonous will.

My chest restricts again. I’d left Erithon on Alderaan less than a month before, seeking the end of this thread. Our communication is been sparse, our positions demanding more and more by the day. It was the reason I didn’t want to check for messages. If I check again and see nothing…

See-Too clangs as gently as possible against the bulkhead, following the noise with a quick apology, “I beg your pardon, Master, but we’ve arrived at the _Progress_. Shall I wake the others?”

I swallowed hard; my mouth was so dry.

“No.”

“Very well. You also have a call.”

“Thank you. I’ll take it in the common room.” I pat See-Too on a metallic shoulder as I slip by, leaving him making a bemused noise in my wake.

I assume the caller is Satele or Syo, aware of my arrival in much the same way I am, but when I load the holo, an armored trooper materializes before me. His helmet is under one arm and he runs a gloved hand through his hair.

It takes every molecule of strength I possess not to drop to the floor. Instead I smile, knowing the low-quality signal will hide the tremble in my lips.

“Hey, Jedi.”

“Hello, Lieutenant.”


End file.
